


Homecoming

by sparrowswing



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blame the Doomcio Server, Condoms, Dominance, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Scratching, Submission, Tickling, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowswing/pseuds/sparrowswing
Summary: This - whateverthisis - is still new, his willingness tosubmitnewer still, uncomfortable and thrilling. In his time away, he almost managed to convince himself he should end things, but soft hands and a firm voice dominated his dreams, woke him on more than one humid night, hot and aching. Loathe though he is to admit it, he missed this.





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to [Bluebells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells), whose Doomcio series [Ceasefire](https://archiveofourown.org/series/914943) inspired this work (and others in this universe that I hope to finish someday), and whose encouragement and suggestions kept me going long enough to actually finish something for once.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! ♥

Akande storms through the Watchpoint, annoyance and frustration wafting off him like steam. Anyone in his path quickly darts away at the nearly murderous look on his face. 

Ten weeks. That mission dragged on for _ten weeks_ , and what did they have to show for it? 

His mood was sour when the transport finally settled into the hangar bay, but after nearly five hours of fruitless debriefs, he is furious. 

_All of this time wasted; what do you have to say for yourself?_

It was a fool’s errand, and he is certain they all knew it. It was a mockery of his skills, a way to push him aside, get him out of the way. After all this time, they still do not trust him. And why should he go out of his way to earn their trust? He came here to _help them_ , and they act as if they are doing him some great favor by allowing him to stay.

His thoughts circle and brew like a building storm as he finally turns down the hallway that leads to his quarters, eagerness to finally sleep in his own bed the first pleasant thought to enter his mind since touching down.

He keys in his unlock code and steps into the dimly lit room with a sigh. There is nothing to be gained from this anger. A good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast should be plenty to get his thoughts in order and return his focus where it belongs.

He does not notice the man sitting at his desk.

“I see _someone_ didn’t bother to stop by the infirmary to get checked out after his mission.” Akande recognizes Lúcio’s voice immediately, hackles rising at his tone.

Akande turns stiffly toward him with a scowl. “If I need assistance, I will seek it out directly. I have no desire to waste even more time simply to be told what I already know: I am _fine_.”

Lúcio smiles as if he is sharing a juicy secret. “I already know you’re _fine_. I just need to make sure you’re _okay_.”

Akande heaves a great sigh, lifting his arms to his sides for inspection and slowly turning around. “Do I look injured? Ill? Frail perhaps?” He is too tired for his words to have the bite he desires, but his companion’s eyes flash just the same.

“Maybe you do,” Lúcio responds sharply, standing from the desk and spinning the chair to face Akande. “Sit, and we’ll find out.” They lock eyes for several long moments, neither making a move. Lúcio gives in first, a muscle near his eye twitching slightly before he releases a harsh breath. “Sit down before I put you down.”

Akande stalks across the room in three long strides, hands curling to fists. The tendon in his neck jumps as he grits his teeth. “I do not have the patience for this,” he growls menacingly.

“Then stop fighting and wasting both our time!” Lúcio nudges the chair an inch closer. “Sit. Please.”

The urge to argue is nearly unbearable. Akande grits his teeth and glares down at the smaller man. A tendon twitches in his neck as he imagines picking Lúcio up and bodily throwing him from the room. He can almost hear the startled shout of outrage, can practically feel him struggling against Akande’s iron grip.

Lúcio raises an eyebrow, his gaze still challenging. While there may be some satisfaction in it, tossing him out would ultimately only cause more trouble. 

The fight seems to leave Akande all at once, fists uncurling and expression softening as he takes the seat with a heavy sigh.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Lúcio’s tone is gentle, doesn’t sound as patronizing as it probably should. Or maybe Akande is too tired to care, drained by weeks - _months_ \- of wasted effort, lost time.

He does not respond. Instead Akande closes his eyes and tries to focus on nothing at all while Lúcio picks up his holopad and begins his medical scans.

He has almost drifted to sleep - lulled by the soft beeps and whirs of the holopad and Lúcio’s quiet hums as he takes note of each result - by the time the examination is finished.

“Well, your blood pressure is up, but I can guess why,” Lúcio starts dryly. “You have a lot of tension in your muscles, especially in your shoulders and upper back. You could stand to drink more water, and I don’t even want to know what you’ve been eating. But overall, you’re-” Lúcio cuts himself off, meeting Akande’s eyes with a half-smile.

“Fine?” Akande finishes dryly.

Lúcio ignores him, returning his holopad to its case and tucking it into his bag. “Take off your shirt.” His voice is detached, clinical, giving no hint to his motivations.

Akande turns to him with a smirk. “I did not know this was part of the examination.” He makes a show of removing his shirt, putting an extra bit of flex in his muscles for effect.

Lúcio does not take the bait. Instead he nudges Akande’s head back to face forward and runs his hands along Akande’s shoulders, working slowly from the tops of his shoulders to the base of his neck and back again. “I think we can take care of some of this tension right now, hmm?”

“I can think of better ways to relieve tension.”

There’s a chuckle behind him as fingers knead into the muscles just above his shoulder blades. “Do you have to fight me on _everything_?” Lúcio changes tactics, rubbing the muscle in firm strokes.

Akande groans as Lúcio presses his thumbs into a particularly tight spot near his neck, digging in deep to work out a knot. “You could just let me have my way.”

Lúcio splays his hands out to stroke broadly across the plains of Akande’s back, seeking out more areas of concentrated tension. “Now what would be the fun in that?”

Akande appreciates the massage, but he is growing tired of this game. He reaches back and grabs the smaller man, pulling him around and onto his lap. Voice dropping to a husky purr, he murmurs, “Oh, it could be _fun_ to give me what I want.” He leans in and claims Lúcio’s lips in a teasing kiss that goes on much longer than he imagined Lúcio would allow.

Lúcio smiles fondly as they draw apart. “I wasn’t finished, you know.”

“I am aware. But it can wait. I have not seen my lover in ten weeks.” He kisses Lúcio again, hands wandering across his thighs and up his sides, holding him in place as the kiss deepens.

His fingers tangle in Lúcio’s locs to tug his head back, lips carving a hot path down his neck. “Mmm… Ten weeks is _entirely_ too long,” Lúcio agrees with a shaky breath. He allows the attention for a while before small hands settle onto broad shoulders and press Akande back against the chair. Lúcio lifts up on his knees until he is tall enough that Akande must tilt his head up for another kiss.

Lúcio dives in close, allowing their lips to just barely touch, before pulling back with a teasing smile. Those small hands slide down Akande’s arms - a soft brush of skin on one side and sporadic sparks of sensation from the sensors in his prosthetic on the other - and come to rest on his wrists, pushing lightly until Akande drops his hands to the arms of the chair. Lúcio smiles at the small sign of submission and rewards him with a deep, bruising kiss that steals his breath and sends bolts of desire arcing through his blood.

When Lúcio draws away with a playful bite to Akande’s lower lip, his eyes are lit with passion, pupils blown wide. He steals one last kiss before clambering off Akande’s lap, tugging at his wrists to guide him up out of the chair.

He dips his fingers into the waistband of Akande’s pants, pulling him toward the bed. “You’re overdressed.” His voice is already rough with desire. “Strip for me and get on the bed.”

Akande hastens to comply, shedding his pants quickly enough that he worries he might have torn the seams. He stands before his lover, naked and proud, before climbing onto the bed as sensuously as he can manage. A glance over his shoulder shows Lúcio licking his lips in appreciation.

He settles onto his back, his body relaxing almost instantly at the comfort of his own bed after being away so long. He can feel a distant nudge of sleepiness, but he tamps it down, unwilling to consider it until Lúcio has taken what he wants.

This - whatever _this_ is - is still new, his willingness to _submit_ newer still, uncomfortable and thrilling. In his time away, he almost managed to convince himself he should end things, but Lúcio's soft hands and firm voice dominated his dreams, woke him on more than one humid night, hot and aching. Loathe though he is to admit it, he missed this.

“God, I forgot how good you look.” Lúcio approaches the bed slowly, gaze roving greedily over the body on display. He undresses almost absentmindedly, his entire focus on his lover. “I dreamed about this, you know. Having you back here. The things I would do to you.” He shudders at the memory and then shakes his head as though he needs to physically pull himself from it. 

There’s some relief in hearing that Akande was not the only one plagued by dreams.

“I wanted to drag it out, get you all wound up and needy. God, I wanted to hear you beg.” By the tone of his voice, Lúcio sounds like he’s missed out on some rare, special treat. “But I can’t. It’s been too damn long.” He goes to the bedside table, withdrawing a condom and a half-empty bottle of lube, sighing wistfully at the toys nestled in the drawer nearby. “Later,” he promises.

Akande tries to imagine it: Lúcio teasing him, keeping him on edge for hours until he loses all coherence and demands release. Just the thought is enough to make his blood run hotter, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Please.” It’s out of his mouth without a thought, nearly without his notice. He tries to choke it off, not ready to give in so soon, even knowing that they are both too far gone tonight to follow the plea through to its tortuous end.

Oh but he _wants_.

Lúcio groans at the sound of his lover begging, even that tiny bit. He climbs onto the bed, settling over Akande’s legs. “Look how hard you are,” he says with a quiet sort of reverence, a small hand darting forward to stroke gently across Akande’s length. “All this for me.”

He leans down and runs his tongue in a broad stripe from root to tip, swirling around the head and suckling for just a moment before pulling away.

“That’s gonna have to wait too. I need you.”

“I am yours.”

Lúcio closes his eyes for a moment, reining himself in. When they finally open, he looks fierce, contained, like a raging storm trapped in a bottle. He tosses the condom onto Akande’s stomach and pops open the lube, slicking his fingers and reaching back to prepare himself quickly.

“Are you certain you can take me?” Akande asks while rolling the condom into place. “It has been a long time.”

Lúcio’s breath stutters out as he presses inside just right, eyelids fluttering at the sensation. “To be honest,” he responds breathlessly, “I hope I can’t. Wanna feel you for _days_.”

Akande chuckles at his lover’s eagerness, skating his hands along Lúcio’s thighs and wishing for a moment that he was not so exhausted, that they really could draw this out for hours on end. He leans up, pulling his lover into a deep kiss. Lúcio is distracted with preparation, so it is more a sloppy meeting of lips and tongue, but it is enough to fan the flames of Akande’s desire.

With his free hand, Lúcio pushes him back down to the bed. “I didn’t give you permission,” he says with a smirk.

Akande hums in agreement. “I suppose I shall have to be punished, then.”

“You are _way_ too eager for that.” Lúcio considers Akande thoughtfully for a moment before his eyes narrow. “If you want punishment,” he continues slowly, “then I’ll tie you to the bed, get you all worked up, grab one of those toys from the drawer.”

He nods to the innocuous looking drawer in question, the mere suggestion sending chills down Akande’s spine. 

“One of the big ones. Maybe the purple one you like so much.”

He bites his lip, but the look in his eyes has a hint of mischief that Akande recognizes far too well. Akande holds his breath in anticipation, wondering what his lover has in mind.

“And then use it on myself, right next to you, no touching. Maybe not even where you can see. I might leave you tied up all night to think about it.”

Akande feels his pulse quicken at the threat, his breath rushing out in a startled gust. He knows it is not so idle a threat as it sounds and hopes desperately that his lover has missed his attentions enough to reconsider. Still he cannot help but banter back, “You are a cruel master.” It’s hard to ignore the reverence in his voice.

Lúcio shifts forward to tweak his nipples, twisting them harder when there is no response, only letting up when he draws a whine of protest from Akande’s throat. “And _you_ are a _brat_.” He leans down and soothes the aching nubs with his tongue, blowing gently across them to watch them harden further. “But at least you’re _my_ brat.”

Akande has to swallow down the bitter indignation that rises at being spoken to like a child, fingers tightening around Lúcio’s narrow hips the only outward sign of the molten heat the humiliation ignites in his blood.

Lúcio trails his hands across Akande’s clavicle and down his arms, curling around his wrists and tugging gently. He lifts the arms languidly, Akande following Lúcio’s movements, maintaining his lover’s slow, teasing pace as he stretches his arms above his head and curls his fingers around the reinforced steel bar they’ve added to the headboard.

Deft fingers trail lightly along the exposed undersides of his arms, pausing to scratch gently at his pits. Breath hitching, Akande squirms under the ticklish touch, trying to pull away while simultaneously leaning into it.

“I’ll never get over you being ticklish, you know.” There is no malice to Lúcio’s voice, only a soft sort of wonder.

Lúcio’s smile is fond, endearing, and it makes Akande almost as uncomfortable as the uncontrollable reactions themselves. “Don’t tease.” Akande’s voice is rough, weak under the attentions of someone who knows him far better than he ever expected, given the short time they had together before this ill-fated mission stole ten weeks of his life.

Lúcio leans forward, lips close enough that their breath mingles. “Is that an order?” he asks quietly. Spoken so softly, his voice sounds nearly identical, but Akande can hear the hidden threat, can practically taste it in the air between their parted lips.

“A request,” he amends, voice cracking.

“Hmm…” Lúcio drags his nails more forcefully across the tender flesh, leaving pale lines in their wake. “I think requests usually come with another word.” He continues scratching lower, fluttering his fingers. When he reaches Akande’s ribs, the man bucks and writhes, a helpless sound rending itself from his throat. 

“Please!” Akande cries out, body twitching, hands curled to tight fists around the bar, pulse racing, sweat gleaming on his temple.

He is barely aware when Lucio presses a final kiss to his now pliant lips. “How can I say no, when you sound so sweet begging?”

He shimmies back down Akande’s body. His motions are perfunctory as he slicks the waiting length and lines it up.

“Ready?” The only response he receives is an eager twitch of hips. That must be enough, because just moments later he is lowering himself onto it, head thrown back with a gasp.

Akande goes cross-eyed at the tight heat closing in around him, his hands clenching around the bar tightly enough that the metal groans in protest. Lúcio pauses, seeks out Akande’s unfocused gaze. Whatever he sees, it reassures him enough to continue, sinking down another inch before stopping to adjust.

“Nothing fills me up like you do,” Lúcio chokes out past ragged breaths as his body struggles to acclimate to the intrusion. “No one else makes me feel like this.”

He sinks lower, taking Akande into his body with a sigh.

“I’ve missed this, having you all to myself.” His fingers trail across Akande’s abs in teasing circles, watching the muscles twitch beneath his touch. “Tearing down all those walls you build around yourself.”

Lúcio has to fight for the last few inches, the hot clutch of his body almost unbearably tight. His breathing changes, stutters out around strained little noises as he fights the pain of taking too much too fast. He cries out softly as he finally settles, body resting snug against Akande’s hips. 

Akande releases his deathgrip on the bars and holds his hands up toward his lover, fingers splayed wide. It takes a moment for Lúcio’s fluttering eyes to notice the hands, but when he does his breathing halts for a moment. “You need me to stop?” He sounds hesitant, apprehensive, like he’s not sure he can follow through if Akande asks him to move away.

Akande shakes his head, fighting the overwhelming pleasure to find his voice. It sounds almost broken when he forces out a desperate, “Please don’t move.”

Lúcio chuckles with relief and just a hint of smugness. “Close already?” Just the vibration of that small laugh is almost enough to push Akande over the edge, and he whines high in his throat, too far gone to respond verbally. “Yeah, me too,” Lúcio admits softly. “Guess it really has been too long.”

Their breaths sound particularly loud in the silence that follows as they wait out their bodies’ overstimulation. Akande swallows, his mind hyperfocused on the intimacy of their position. He is thankful the lights are turned low, that their heights are so different, so that Lúcio cannot look into his eyes with that piercing gaze of his.

He did miss the sex, the pleasure, even the warmth of Lúcio’s skin. But this… this intimacy still feels too new, too _vulnerable_. Lúcio has worked so hard to convince Akande that it’s okay to feel vulnerable, but it still feels like a weakness waiting to be exploited.

Unbidden, an urge bubbles up within to seize control, flip Lúcio onto his back and _take_. His hands, still hovering awkwardly between them, twitch toward Lúcio’s hips.

Lúcio reaches out, takes Akande’s flesh hand between his own, pulling it toward his face. He presses a kiss to each fingertip and then rubs the palm along his cheek, like a cat scent marking its human.

Akande cups his hand over that cheek, fingers sinking into the soft curls gracing his scalp. Lúcio nuzzles at his wrist, presses a kiss to his fluttering pulse, followed by a lick and then a gentle bite. It doesn’t hurt, but Akande still sucks in a sharp breath, a word of protest lodged in his throat.

With a final kiss to the tender flesh of Akande’s wrist, Lúcio softly murmurs, “Grab the bar when you’re ready to continue.”

For a moment Akande considers refusing the gentle order. The image of Lúcio on his back, bent nearly in half and submitting to Akande’s will, is still so very clear in his mind. He can almost hear the undignified squeak as Lúcio is grabbed and flipped, can already see the challenge in his eyes as they grapple for dominance.

Even in the safety of his own mind, Akande eventually gives in and allows Lúcio to take what he wants.

Something in his chest pulses with an unfamiliar ache at the realization.

A single finger trails across the plains of Akande’s abs, a blunt nail catching his iliac crest, the sudden pain just sharp enough to break his train of thought. “You’re thinking too hard,” Lúcio declares, suspicion lacing his voice. “You’re up to something.”

It’s somehow even more vulnerable to know that Lúcio can see right through him like this. There’s no point in denying it, so he lets the idea fade. He slides his hand down from Lúcio’s face, grazing across his chest before returning it to the bar with deliberate slowness.

A pleased little hum and a softly murmured, “That’s it,” sigh through the room. Lúcio leans forward to brace his hands on Akande’s chest, lifting his hips the tiniest bit and sinking back down. Akande lets him set the pace, tries his best to hold still while his young lover slakes his lust. The pleasure is bearable now, the intensity muted.

Lúcio rolls his hips, groaning when the motion stimulates that sweet bundle of nerves hidden within. He drags in a shaky breath and lets it out with a moan, rolling his entire body to the rhythm his hips set, riding waves of pleasure in a sensual dance that entrances his lover: beautiful and deadly, temptation personified.

As the pleasure builds, Akande can’t help but arch up into each motion, the faint thrill of fear that Lúcio might stop because he’s acting without permission only adding extra flavor to the tension building low in his gut.

“Oh yeah,” Lúcio moans, snapping his hips to meet Akande on the next thrust. “That’s it, give me more. Make me _feel it_.” His fingers curl against Akande’s chest, nails dragging against his skin. “Come on,” he grinds out, “harder!”

Akande lifts his knees so he can brace his feet against the bed, uses the additional leverage to thrust up hard. Lúcio keens, nearly falling forward with the force of it. He rights himself and then leans back until he can brace on Akande’s thighs instead, fingers digging into the tight muscle as he sets a new, more aggressive pace.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, echoed by the harsh pants of their breath. “I won’t last,” Akande warns.

“If you come first, I expect you to keep going until I’m done too.”

It’s impressive he can string together a complete sentence like this, and for a fleeting moment Akande is distracted by the blow to his pride. Then his mind catches up to the demand, and he groans loudly. Just the thought of being used like a toy while he’s spent and oversensitive plucks at a deeply hidden part of him, fills his gut with molten heat and makes him dizzy with renewed desire.

“Lúcio, _please_!” His voice is ragged, each breath ripped from his lungs in time with their movements. He grips the bar hard enough for the metal to whine in protest, his toes curling into the bedsheets.

“Almost,” Lúcio pants. He tilts his hips, leans back against Akande’s thighs. “There! Oh, right there, keep going.”

Little grunts of effort follow every breath as he directs all that force to that sensitive bundle of nerves. Akande’s thrusts lose their rhythm, his body too lost to the pleasure to hold steady.

“Nonono, come on! Just a little more.” There’s an urgency to his voice, a crack of emotion as he chases his own end.

Akande wishes he could keep going, that he could draw this out forever or somehow freeze this moment in time. His eyes lock with his lover’s, and all at once that final wave of pleasure crests over him. His body bows with the force of it, hands releasing the bar to grab at Lúcio’s hips and pull him down into a particularly hard thrust.

Lúcio cries out, writhes in his grip, reaches down to take himself in hand to finish while Akande rides out his orgasm.

When the haze of pleasure first begins to lift, Akande pushes himself through the discomfort and continues to thrust upward, using his grip on Lúcio’s hips to assist with the angle. Lúcio whines, high and needy, his hand twisting fast and tight over his length. “Come for me, my love,” Akande begs.

Lúcio’s eyes go wide, breath caught in his chest, and then he bows his head and comes with a strangled moan. His come streaks across Akande’s stomach, pooling in the creases between his abs and sliding slowly over his side.

They spend several long moments like that, their pulses and breath slowly returning to normal. Lúcio says nothing of the pet name or its implications, for which Akande is immensely thankful. They’ll have to talk about it eventually, but right now the exhaustion is settling back into his bones.

Lúcio eases from his position, carefully removing the condom and going to dispose of it. He returns moments later with a soft cloth to clean up the remaining mess.

When he finishes, Akande laces their fingers together and tugs Lúcio into the bed, curling around him. Lúcio graces his jaw with a kiss and then snuggles in close. Sleep tugs at him like dark tendrils pulling him under the surface of some still lake. Sated and comfortable, he can no longer deny his body its rest.

He can barely muster the energy to speak, but still he asks in a soft voice, “Will you be here when I wake?”

Gently stroking across his brow, Lúcio presses soft kisses to Akande’s eyelids. “You’re home now. I’m not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want to leave a comment but not sure what to say? Tell me about something weird you've experienced.


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